"To-night you shall be my wedded wife. She was too delicate, too fragile to survive out there. I must go and dress at once. She turned off the light and approached the window. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual. Treasure caves to explore! All through these trying days she had recurrently wondered what this strange young man would have to say that Dickens and Hugo had not already said.
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